


Way Down We Go

by Starships



Series: Himbo [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: And a cuddle, And prolly a good boning, BDSM Under/Overtones, Bawdy tavern songs, EXTRA FILTH O'CLOCK, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Female Friendships, Hurt/Comfort, Named but non-specific female WoL, Porn with Feelings, Spoilers for all of Stormblood, The author intended slow burn, no beta we die like men, she really did, this shit gets dirty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2020-05-16 02:50:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19309105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starships/pseuds/Starships
Summary: After the collapse of the Scions, the Warrior of Light allows her grief to carry her to Doma in an effort to find rest and comfort.Hien happily provides.





	1. Chapter One

Morrigan had absolutely no idea what she was doing.

  
Alisaie had been gone for less than sixteen hours. Morrigan couldn’t escape the smell of flowery oils she always used, even still had some on her skin from carrying Alisaie to the infirmary. Jasmine, lavender, clary sage. She could hear her voice, see her smile, but the truth remained: she was gone, the Scions were gone, and Morrigan stood now as the last.

  
She was less than twenty paces from the Enclave’s aetheryte when he spotted her. His hair stood wild, face concerned, sun-baked skin glistening with sweat, eyes warm and boyish as they always were. The market smelled of fish and bao, livelier than she had experienced previously in her time in Doma, even with all the restorations. When last she was here, it made her heart sing. People exchanged goods, erected new shops, chattered happily with friends recent and old alike, reawakened old industries they had long ago been robbed of.

  
Now? She felt nothing.

  
Unable to meet his curious stare as he marched his way over, Morrigan felt shame and what she logically knew to be survivor’s guilt churn angrily inside of her. By the time he got to her, her eyes had been planted so firmly downward she was surprised she couldn’t see individual blades of grass slowly growing. His feet came into view, but she would not look at him until she felt a finger under her chin gently tipping her face upwards.

  
His eyes were so, so warm. Tilted at the edges as he smiled with them instead of his mouth. Her cheeks were wet somehow, but she was disconnected from earthly sensations, except his skin that was now cupping her cheek. Was it raining? She thought she could feel his fingerprints, maybe — his calluses were comforting, his touch confident, his skin hot against the cool, crisp air.

  
“Let’s get you some food,” Hien said simply.

 

* * *

 

 

  
“She always made fun of me for this, you know,” Morrigan told him as she slurped her soup loudly while holding jiazo zi in her free hand.

  
“Alisaie?”

  
“Mhmm. She used to tell me she couldn’t believe I could hold it together at the high tables of Ishgard and then ate like I was feral in the field.”

  
“What’s your secret?”

  
“Fear,” Morrigan said with a laugh, slurping harder while her mouth was full. Hien couldn’t believe she wasn’t choking. “I figure, if the Ishgardians are too afraid of me they won’t notice what I do with their meals.”

  
“So you didn’t hold it together at the high tables of Ishgard,” Hien said, chuckling. His green eyes danced happily in the firelight, even though the comfort of their evening couldn’t chase away the shadows entirely.

  
“Whatever,” Morrigan snorted, making a truly remarkable mess around her. Unperturbed and prone to not wasting anything, she just picked up the bits she dropped on the table and ate them anyway.

  
Hien had always adored her lack of pretense, and now was no exception. He had had too many years being raised on very precise etiquette and manners. Watching her, his stomach twisted in ways he had long since given up examining too closely with the knowledge that she came here, to him, when everyone else close to her was gone. Doma was where she felt safest, and he would be damned if it didn’t stay that way.

  
“Let us toast to Alisaie,” he declared, standing from their meal to fetch what Morrigan presumed was sake. She used the opportunity to lick her plate, enjoying the final vestiges of her meal -- trying to lose herself in the moment, rather than thinking about the tinkling bells that comprised Alisaie's laugh.

  
She was surprised to find it was actually a whiskey he brought back. Doman whiskies were quite rare, and this one was exceptional — heavily peated with a note of salt, like sea mist in the morning. It burned the whole way down, and she was desperately grateful for it.

  
“I would like to get extremely drunk this evening, if you don’t quite mind,” Morrigan announced. Hein raised his stone cup to her in a salute, and downed it all in one go. She followed the long line of his throat as he swallowed, eyes tracing his jawline down to the scar on his shoulder. If he caught her looking, he didn’t comment. “How do you still have a whiskey, anyway? I can’t imagine the Empire just let you keep making them.”

  
“They didn’t,” he replied. “This was from my father’s stock. I found it stowed in some supplies here at the Enclave. To be true, I’m hoping Doma can have its own distillery again soon. Perhaps a selfish thought, but I want the world to taste more of my home.”

  
“They will,” she said, feeling a real smile finally sneaking in around the edges. “Everyone will. Every single place the Empire now sits will have its chance to rejoin the world, I swear it.” Morrigan hesitated a moment before continuing, “Well, probably. I don’t really know what to do without the Scions. I’m not enough, not alone.”

  
“No one is ever enough alone, Morrigan.”

  
She took a deep breath, feeling her lungs expand and stretch her ribs, hearing her blood rushing through her ears, her soul crystals gently singing to her. The hum is just as reassuring as the heat rolling off Hien.

  
“What if I have to be?” She couldn’t quite keep her voice steady. Morrigan’s grief and fear were poking holes in her carefully constructed exterior, and if she hated one thing above all others, it was being vulnerable. It made her stomach knot and that spot between her shoulder blades that she could never reach itch something fierce.

  
Hien reached for her, taking both hands and tugging her sharply into his lap, pressing her into his chest and squeezing. The smell of whiskey on him was reminiscent of evenings camped with the Scions outside of the Reach, a scant few bells of respite from the clamor of war, and she inhaled deeply to savor it.

  
“You are not alone,” Hien said. His voice was steady, reassuring. He meant every onze and left no room for negotiation.

  
Morrigan melted into him and finally, hollowly cried. She wove her fingers into his hair and made a fist, wrapping her other limbs around him and keening as though she were dying. She certainly felt like she was, even if it was a little easier to breathe here in this place than it had been anywhere else.

  
A knock on the door to his room startled her, and she let out a little yip and tried to stand, but his arms were an unyielding force. She may be the Warrior of Light, but by the Twelve Hien Rijin was _strong_.

  
“Come!”

  
Morrigan turned red, swollen eyes up to her friend who stood startled in the doorway, giving a meek wave from her place caged in Hien’s lap. He hadn’t stopped stroking her back, her hair, anything he could comfortably reach.

  
“Ah, Yugiri! Join us for whiskey?”

  
“I’m getting drunk,” Morrigan said.

  
“Exceptionally,” Hien added.

  
Despite herself, Yugiri laughed. Truth be told, she had been hoping to find her dear friends in a compromising position for what felt like years at this point, but this moment felt like comfort between scarred comrades rather than lovers. Still, she wouldn’t miss a chance to see her Lord drunk, especially with the Warrior of Light herself squirming in his lap attempting to reach the bottle again.

  
“If that be your will, my Lord,” Yugiri replied.

  
Morrigan laughed out loud and pushed Hien in response. “You really think he’s so formal right now, Yugiri?” she teased.

  
“Mayhaps not, but he is always my Lord.”

  
“Well, he isn’t mine, and his big body is in my way.” Hien laughed uproariously, reaching for the whiskey and pouring Morrigan what was easily enough for a Roegadyn. A sailor, even. Maybe Merlwyb herself.

  
“Please help yourself to a cup from the cupboard, my friend. I find myself unable to rise.”

  
Yugiri snuck a look at Morrigan as she walked by, and indeed, the woman’s face was completely scarlet. She had seen her hold her fill just fine before they flooded Doma castle; there was no way she was drunk yet. Yugiri wondered only somewhat idly if Morrigan knew how Hien felt about her.

  
“Have you heard from Gosetsu?” The Warrior asked, sipping her whiskey and resting her cheek on Hien’s left shoulder, seemingly content to stay for as long as he allowed it. Her heartbeat wouldn’t slow, no matter how much she tried to relax — Morrigan knew he was comforting her, granting her a moment of rest when it was usually her job to keep everyone else hale and whole — but it pulled her taut like a bowstring and she wasn’t sure if she wanted the string to be plucked or if she wanted to run far away and never look back.

  
“I have!” Yugiri replied with a warm and genuine smile. “He won’t tell me where he is, exactly, but I know he’s aiding a small village with their younglings and crops. I would guess not at the same time, but you never know with Gosetsu. He sends me a letter every moon, and I must confess they give me a good deal of peace.”

  
“That’s wonderful,” Morrigan replied, and she meant it. She breathed deeply, savoring the scent of Hien’s skin and Yugiri’s soap and the Doman breeze drifting kindly into the room. The alcohol’s heat made her loose, and she made the deliberate choice to trust, to relax, to enjoy. “I think,” she declared coyly, glancing up at Hien through her lashes, “that you should sing us a song.”

  
He smirked at her, and it put her off guard — she expected him to be startled, or to be bashful. As a rule he possessed very little pretense or subterfuge, and she had almost never seen him look wicked before. Fortunately or unfortunately for her, she soon learned why.

  
Hien had a truly deep repertoire of absolutely filthy tavern songs.

  
 _Completely_ filthy ones.

  
Yugiri couldn’t close her mouth, clearly torn between hysterically laughing and being shell-shocked. Morrigan found it most charming. She loved Yugiri dearly, and a chance for her to be like this, happy and silly, felt so delicately precious. Not a single one of them had gotten here, to this moment in time, easily. She thought for a moment that they had all earned each other, earned this family, and it spread joy in her belly like a wildfire.

  
She wasn’t going to let Hien have all the fun, though. After all, she had spent _years_ in Limsa. Years with Thancred. Hell, years with Y’shtola, and Shtola may be stern but she could drink and shout and be bawdy with the best of them. Scandalizing Lyse was a favorite past time amongst everyone but Urianger and Alphinaud. (She had long suspected Urianger of being quite, ah, unorthodox himself, but Alphinaud was just sweet and young no matter how many times he insisted he wasn't.)

  
She missed them all in her bones, and in this very moment, she honored Thancred especially by warbling out his favorite song about big cocks and sex in Ul’dahn alleyways.

  
Hien was palming his face, almost snort laughing into it. Morrigan could not sing. It was bad. Utterly flat. He felt his face get hotter every time she sang fuck or cock or the alarming detail of compromising positions. She gesticulated wildly and it pushed her around in his lap, and he made sure to keep an arm around her waist every time she wobbled or spilled her whiskey. He had to look away when she lost some of it down her arm and licked a stripe the whole, long, entire way up to her hand without a single onze of shame.

  
Morrigan slammed her hand on the table, reaching for the bottle and pouring the last into their three cups. “To Thancred,” she said, bringing the cup closer to her chest. “Y’shtola. Urianger. Alphinaud. Alisaie.”

  
“Hear, hear!”

  
“To the Scions.”

  
All three drank, eyes closed. Morrigan swayed, consistently anchored by Hien’s body. She feared that without it she would float into the sky and come apart at the seams like so much stardust.

  
“To you, Yugiri,” she said, startling her where she sat across the table. “To you, Hien,” and she tipped her head back to his chest. “Thank you for taking me in. Thank you for shelter and a home.” Morrigan didn’t know how to give the words the gravity they deserved, and she hoped her friends knew how deeply she loved them.

  
Hien set his cup down, whiskey untouched, and wrapped every limb he could around her. Into her ruffled hair, he said, “Anywhere I am, my friend. For always.”

  
“Here, here!” Yugiri said with a firm smile and warm eyes.

  
Finally, Morrigan let herself feel.

 

* * *

 

 

  
Okay, it was official. She was soused.

  
Morrigan couldn’t remember when Yugiri left, but she seemed to recall a knowing smile. Honestly she was pretty distracted at the time, trying to figure out how to untie Hien’s hair.

  
A bow should not be this difficult. Theoretically, it was a basic knot. She suspected magic.

  
“You know,” she slurred, “the existential void of darkness that houses our worst impulses and manifests entirely as violent revenge was easier to conquer than your hair.”

  
“I’m sorry, what was that?”

  
“Whatever, Fray doesn’t know how to undo this either.”

  
“Morrigan.”

  
“Yes, hair?”

  
“Let’s get you to bed. Hair will be here in the morning.”

  
“Hair will be here tonight,” she declared. “Put me in your bed and take my clothes off.” She grabbed his hand and used it to fan her face, like she was a queen.

  
He was officially going to get her drunk more often, and officially going to die on the spot.

  
“Fine,” he conceded. They had seen each other nude before, but it had been while bathing in rivers and traveling, and it had been in groups of other companions. Everyone either politely averted their eyes or, if comfort levels permitted, gossiped and helped wash each other's hair and backs. Lyse giggling and throwing soap at Morrigan's head came to mind.

  
He scooped her up, unsteady on his own feet, and carried her to his bed. Her eyes were closed before she even hit the pillow, but her fist was clamped around his belt and showed no signs of letting go.

  
He adjusted the hem of her shirt, tugged on a pant leg, and removed absolutely zero articles of clothing or even buttons.

  
“There,” he declared. “Completely nude.”

  
“Excellent,” she murmured. “Get in here, hair.”

  
He laughed and lay down behind her, breathing in her skin and whiskey and the evening outside that was starting to smell suspiciously like morning.

  
“Sleep, Morrigan. We have quite a day tomorrow.”

  
“Do we?”

  
He rested his hand on her hip and closed his eyes. “Mm,” was all he said, and they both fell asleep in the space between the other’s heartbeats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I based Hien's whiskey off of Oban's Little Bay, which is absolutely scrumptious.


	2. Chapter Two

She woke to a gentle knock on the door, distant and tinkling. A woman’s voice announced “Breakfast, m’lord,” before footsteps shuffled away.

 

Unfortunately, Morrigan was pretty sure she was actually dead. The heavily filtered sunlight was definitely the murder weapon.

 

“It finally happened. The Warrior of Light is dead, felled by the Prince of Doma.”

 

“Hmm,” was the rough reply, and very slowly Morrigan became more aware of her state of being, and Hien’s.

 

The bright light of day was dim because her face was covered in his rowdy hair, his hand was definitely inside of her shirt, and his nose was nuzzling the back of her neck. She was certain he could feel her heart jackhammering inside of her ribs like it wanted to escape.

 

What would she feel if she scooted back, just a little?

 

Instead, she rolled over, grimacing as one part of her brain stabbed another part. She tucked herself into his chest, and his broad arms welcomed her.

 

“Good morning, my friend,” he murmured.

 

She sighed, feeling warm. Other than her horrendous hangover, the only lingering feeling from the night before was contentment. She felt spent and empty, in the best way — a room filled to the brim with clutter that has been tidied. “G’mornin. Do we actually have to get up?”

 

“Not at all,” he replied, gracing her forehead with a kiss. She hummed and pressed closer without thinking, and when he pushed forward into her with a sweet sigh she discovered how hard he actually was.

 

“Fuck,” she exhaled, but his mouth was already craning down to brush along her neck so, so slowly. He seemed to enjoy the game of how softly he could touch her until she was straining forward desperately to meet him.

 

He trailed his fingers from the base of her knee upwards like he was tracing a river on a map, and she obligingly opened her thighs and brought her leg closer, letting him hitch it over his hip.

 

“Is this okay?” His voice shook, just a little.

 

“ _Yes,”_ she hissed, surging forward to swipe the flat of her tongue along his scarred shoulder and digging her nails sharply into his bare abdomen. She was done with gentle, with careful. He threw his head back and groaned, exposing the strong lines of his neck, while his hands scrambled for any part of her he could reach, settling on the globes of her ass and _squeezing_. She gasped at the sensation of being spread and thrust herself directly into his length, unable to tell which of them those embarrassing noises were spilling out of. It must have been her, because one look at his face showed a complete and utter lack of shame as he responded to her. She brought her lips ungracefully to his, wave after wave of emotion hitting her as he met her halfway. He allowed her to lead, and she greedily swept her tongue into mouth, rolling him onto his back so she had open planes of skin to claw and leverage to grind down.

 

Kissing Hien was not what she had expected. She had imagined something chaste, gentle, proper. Maybe a little hand holding.

 

Gods, she was an idiot.

 

He growled into her and fisted her hair, sharply keeping her in place. The bite of pain made her toes curl and she let out a disbelieving huff, almost a laugh. She couldn’t even _believe_ was he was doing to her. Her nerves were setting her on fire and she wanted there to be nothing left on the other side. She was legitimately going to come like this, grinding herself sloppily all over his cock. Quite the epitaph —  Here lies the Warrior of Light, burned to death in the midst of orgasm. Send funeral costs to the Doman Fucking Enclave, and make sure you blame their prince for not even taking her clothes off.

 

There was a sharp rap at the door and they both froze, staring into each other’s eyes, unable to breathe.

 

“My lord,” Hakuro’s gruff voice came from the other side. “Magnai of the Oronir has arrived for your scheduled meeting. Shall I tell him you’re on your way?”

 

“ _Motherfucking Magnai,”_ Morrigan hissed. “I am going to kill him. I am going to take out the entire Steppe. I am going to bring Dalamud down and _I will show them a fucking Calamity—"_

 

He couldn’t help it, Hien exploded with laughter. She loved the sound — he had a divine laugh, she thought. Her faith had never been strong but she could see it in him.

 

“I’ll be there soon, Hakuro,” Hien called. “Dismissed.”

 

“Hien I forbid you from taking affairs of state,” she declared even as he was sitting up. “You are not a Prince. You have no meetings. You are going to take my clothes off and finish what you started.”

 

“Of course I am,” he said easily. “Have dinner with me tonight?”

 

She started, not expecting something that sounded so romantic. For some reason. Again, she realized, she was probably an idiot.

 

She nodded enthusiastically. “Can I still kill Magnai?”

 

“To be true, I think he would enjoy that entirely too much for my liking.”

 

Hien stood gracefully and walked to his wardrobe, not bothering to hide his erection. His face was flushed, and he was enjoying her eyes, her undivided attention. Having the Warrior of Light look only at you felt quite like the stars were singing for you.

 

He dressed unhurriedly, and she got the sense she was watching a show in reverse — he was teasing her, taking his tan skin away, ilm by ilm. His taut abdomen, streaked red from her nails, his left shoulder, his thick and muscled thighs.

 

Well, she could do that too.

 

She stared at him and sucked two fingers into her mouth, and once they were soaked she started to trail them under her waistband, before his firm voice stopped her.

 

“No.”

 

She froze. “No?”

 

“You are not to touch yourself. You will have no release unless I give it to you, and then you will have as much as I say you will.”

 

Holy fuck. Her heart roared like drums in her ears, the pulsing beat going straight to her cunt and she got slicker, hotter. Hien made Hell’s Lid feel like fucking Ishgard.

 

On extremely shaky legs she stood and walked over to him, taking his sword hand and slipping it, unresisting, into her smallclothes. She pushed their fingers down, together, into her slit and pulling them out, shining proudly in the morning sun. He was breathing so inconsistently she worried he might hyperventilate, and his face was utterly wrecked.

 

“Yes, sir,” she murmured demurely, licking their fingers clean one at a time.

 

“Dinner,” he said hoarsely, like he was reminding himself.

 

“Dinner,” she confirmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first thing I've written in just about four years, and I'm feeling rusty but I've gotta admit its fun to, uh, bang this out again. (─‿‿─)


	3. Chapter Three

Morrigan had no idea how exactly she was supposed to keep herself busy until dinner. (She tried not to think about after dinner, because when she thought about _after dinner_ her core twitched and then all she could think about was violating a direct order, and thinking about the direct order made her core twitch, and…)

 

Ordinarily, the majority of her time was spent literally writing down all the things she had to do, they were so numerous. But now, there was only the bustle of the Enclave, the rustle of wind through the trees, and no expectations.

 

She was torn between extreme anxiety and glee.

 

She was also starving.

 

She marched between residents and merchants on a mission, deciding today she would try every single bao the Domans had to offer. She was surprised at how many there actually were, all hot and steaming in her hands until she had numerous burns and a happy belly. She had tea with the captain of the guard, sparred with (more like terrorized) new recruits, and sat in the back of a honest to goodness story time for little ones in a copse of trees. The tale was narrated by an animated Auri woman who reminded her of the Ruby Princess, she was so controlled and precise in each gesture and intonation. She clapped with delight along with all the children when it was done, but still snuck away before she could be spotted, pulling her last bao from her pocket and eating it in two bites.

 

It was only early afternoon and her agitation was stirring the aether in her blood. It was no where _near_ close enough to dinner. She wanted a fight, and there were only two people here she was confident she wouldn’t accidentally kill. One was presumably still busy with Magnai and the Oronir delegation, but the other must be free _somewhere_.

 

She only had to ask around a couple of guards before she was conveniently directed of all places to the training yard, now devoid of trainees. Yugiri stood alone, going through moving meditation forms in soft black pants and a tunic.

 

“Yugiri?” Morrigan called softly, not wanting to startle her friend. “May I join you?”

 

“Oh! Of course!”

 

They smiled at each other, Morrigan toeing off her shoes as she strode forward and removing her more rigid outer jacket. She had no idea what Yugiri was actually doing, but she had had some brief training as a shinobi and would do her best to replicate her form.

 

Worldlessly, they fell in sync, breathing in and out in a long slow wave together, feeling the world move around them as they warmed up. Half a bell passed like this, in warm companionable silence, before Yugiri struck without warning.

 

Morrigan was on her ass with a startled yelp before she had even known what had happened, laughing in delight.

 

“Yes!” She cried joyfully, jumping to her feet and readying her fists. She was a scrappy combatant, always utilizing what got the job done over what was being done correctly, and she had no idea what fighting her friend would even look like. Yugiri’s leg came at her face before she even realized what was happening, and she barely managed to block with her arm and duck before the next blow was coming.

 

Then Yugiri vanished. Completely.

 

And here Morrigan thought the Shinobi at least used a puff of smoke.

 

She pulled her aether up from the ground and into her fists, weaving fire and ice in a ring around her, spreading it outward until she heard a yelp and saw the other woman jump back several yalms. With a feral grin, she charged, meeting her opponent head on. She had never fought anyone quite _so fast_ before. Yugiri landed far more blows than she took, but Morrigan seemingly did not tire, and while she was a sloppy hand to hand fighter the sheer power behind each of her blows was staggering.

 

_“Enough!”_ Yugiri cried as she tired and time wore on. “Let us see what you can really do.”

 

The hair on Morrigan’s arms rose as she felt it — aether rising to the call of someone that was not her. She had seen this in full force only once before, in the Ghimlyt Dark, and with her blood roaring in her she rose to meet the challenge. She steeled herself, pulling everything she had, and countered with a flare that left her shaking and empty.

 

The resulting light show was truly spectacular.

 

Unfortunately for both of them, the training yard was the primary casualty, and while they both were bleeding and somewhat wounded it was the look on Hien and Magnai’s faces from beyond what used to be a wall that let them know they had really overdone it.

 

“Uh,” Morrigan said intelligently from her place kneeling on the ground, panting and dripping blood.

 

“My Lord! Forgive us!” Yugiri cried, keeping a straight face as best she could while dripping gore into her tunic and bowing. “Twould seem we got quite carried away with each other.”

 

She could see Hien’s cheek twitching. She could _see_ it. She knew he was trying to swallow a laugh.

 

Magnai didn’t look like he was trying to hide anything though, and was seconds away from proposing to Yugiri on the spot before Morrigan cried “Magnai! Good to see you well!”

 

Yugiri reached out to give Morrigan a hand up, which she gratefully took. “Here, let me help you with that,” she said, cupping Yugiri’s cheeks and pouring white magic into both of their bodies, syncing their lungs together like they had during their meditation together.

 

Several stonemasons and guards had already rushed over to express their dismay, with Morrigan quickly reassuring them that the Warrior of Light was here to help and had a good deal of building experience herself. She, of course, avoided bringing up that she had (blatantly) caused the destruction. 

 

She waved to Hien and Magnai. “I’m sure you two were in the middle of something very important, so you just go ahead and don’t worry about me here and Yugiri and I will get this all fixed up.”

 

Hien strode over to her, reaching up to wipe a drop of blood from her cheek before sucking his finger clean. “See that you do,” he said cheerfully. “Mayhaps that will burn some of this, ah, pent up energy you seem to be struggling with today.”

 

The bastard was _smirking._

 

“I’ll see you for dinner, _sir,”_ she replied, keeping her voice quiet and only for his ears. He smiled, cheeks flushed, and she had a moment of such pure and uncomplicated contentment pass through her as their eyes met that she didn’t quite know what to do with herself.

 

The world was a fucking mess, but some things were simply and truly good.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She returned to Hien’s room filthy, sweaty, smelling, and starving. He was kneeling on a cushion at his desk completing what looked like an illegal amount of paperwork when he looked up, a wide grin breaking out like the sun after winter.

 

“Welcome home,” he said, and her chest got hot and her eyes stung a little bit. Probably the exhaustion. He rose to greet her more properly but she waved him off.

 

“Oh no you don’t,” she said. “I have to have a bath before doing anything at all, especially touching you or your very clean clothes. I’ve fixed your Enclave but breaking it was much easier and I am _disgusting._ ”

 

He laughed. “Of course, Mori.”

 

Her ears perked. That was new, and if the swoop in her gut was anything to go by, she liked it.

 

He gathered her a plain robe from his armoire and gave her directions to the bath houses behind the residence, assuring her he would be here, not touching her and completing his duties, for whenever she was ready to eat.

 

“Thank you, Hien,” she said, holding her parcel to her chest and kissing his cheek before exiting as quickly as she could. She was eager, _so_ eager, to have him to herself without a deadline except morning. She wouldn’t let brick dust and stray mortar stop her for long.

 

She wondered what bathing with Hien would be like, but knew immediately he would never consent to it in public. She had a feeling he was quite comfortable being seen, perhaps even enjoyed it, but his position as leader of a nation prevented such things from being acceptable in essentially all circumstances.

 

Maybe one day, somewhere he wasn’t recognized. Her heart did a funny leap in her chest thinking so far ahead, but she found herself clinging to it after so much loss. The Scions would be okay, she knew they would, felt it inside of her. But she couldn’t find them, couldn’t _help_ them, and all that was left was to wring her hands uselessly and take what joy she could.

 

And being here, with her friends, was intensely joyful.

 

She stripped quickly upon reaching the bathhouse, used to a utilitarian approach to cleanliness on the road. There were other people around, relaxing and chatting as the evening wore on, and she greeted them in reply when they said anything to her but otherwise soaked in silence. The heat was divine, and the amount of muck that had come out of her hair when she rinsed before joining everyone was truly horrendous. This was quite possibly the best bath she had ever had.

 

She didn’t dally, scrubbing herself pink and exiting quickly. She dressed in the robe Hien had given her, breathing in his scent from the fabric, and left her traveling clothes to be cleaned. She didn't even bother wringing out her hair.

 

There was food on the table when she got back, and he was sipping tea quietly. He gestured for her to sit, but she marched straight to him and straddled his lap, sinking down and bringing her lips to his, holding him close.

 

“Fuck dinner,” she murmured, arching into him and making extremely devious plans until her stomach growled so loudly she froze.

 

He laughed. “You were saying?”

 

He gently brought a small dumpling to her mouth, and she narrowed her eyes before taking his fingers into her mouth along with the food, grinding her hips down onto his. He groaned and closed his eyes, savoring the reality of her, here, with him.

 

“You need to eat, Mori,” he insisted, somewhat breathless.

 

“Hmm. Maybe you’re right,” she said, and he would have seen the gleam in her eyes had he had his own open.

 

Her hands went to the belt of her robe and she shucked it, letting it fall behind her as she scurried off his lap and pulled at his own. Belt, tie, robe, buckle, armor — he was wearing far too many articles and by the Twelve she had a _mission._

 

When he opened his eyes, he was treated to her fully nude form on her hands and knees, tugging at his belt, and it twisted something inside of him.

 

He wanted more than tonight, wanted more than when she only needed shelter. He wanted to come home to this, rise to this. He _wanted_ , selfish man that he was.

 

Later. He would talk to her later.

 

“Were you good for me today?” He asked mildly, feigning disinterest as she disrobed him.

 

“Well,” she said, struggling with a stuck knot, “I destroyed your training yard.”

 

“Yes, Magnai commented on how… frustrated you seemed.”

 

She snarled and bent down, pulling on the knot with her teeth. His breath hitched at her proximity. He reached for a dark berry on the table as she finally got it undone, tracing it over her lips and simply saying, “Eat.”

 

"Fine," she grumbled.

 

She licked the berry from between his fingers, and in the space of a single heartbeat had thrown his robe wide, knocking armor off his shoulder onto the floor and the trim of his robe into a dark sauce. She pulled his cock free and gently nuzzled it, holding his gaze through her lashes. “I was very good, in fact,” she said, licking a thick stripe from his base to tip, and he choked or saw stars or the actual faces of the Kami. If you asked him later, he wouldn’t be able to tell you, except that it was bliss.

 

“I’m supposed to be taking care of _you_ ,” he protested weakly, leaning back on his hands so he didn’t just grab her hair and thrust into the back of her throat.

 

That made her stop, sitting up to cup his face and stare into him. He felt utterly nude, and it had nothing to do with his skin on display before her.

 

“You _are,_ ” she said softly, tenderly.

 

She took a dumpling from the table and wolfed it down, as if to say _see? I’m eating_ and then she leaned down on her elbows, pushing her ass into the air for his viewing pleasure, and positively _swallowed_ him.

 

Hien shouted and his fist gripped a handfuls of her dark hair, unable to stop. Her lips were pressed to his pubic bone and she held so, so still, and he had no idea it would be like this. Maybe he should have just had her there on the Azim Steppe all that time ago, in front of the Xaela and his people and everyone. Declared his intent right there before the sun and the wilderness.

 

Now he could barely even form a thought, much less function as anything other than a writhing nervous system.

 

“Mori,” he ground out. “Touch yourself. _Do not come.”_

 

She pulled back just enough to tug his foreskin down and suckle at the head, reaching her free hand to his mouth and letting him lick three of her fingers until they were ready. Obediently and without breaking her rhythm, she reached down, and he could _hear_ how wet she was. It was obscene, and it made him harder, pushing up a little until he reached her gag reflex and she choked.

 

“My love, are you alright?” He asked, pulling her off him hurriedly.

 

She blinked shining eyes up at him. Initially, he thought it was because he had gone too deep, but then his brain caught up with his mouth.

 

“I, uh,” he said smartly.

 

“Yes, my love,” she said, smiling so, so wide. “I’ll tap your hip if I need a break, yes?”

 

At his stunned nod, she took his hand and wrapped it back in her hair.

 

“Now fuck my face,” she demanded, resuming her work both on herself and on him.

 

He did.

 

He had watched this woman, this Valkyrie, kill gods and monsters and empires of evil men. Surely she could handle him. He would trust her to say if anything was too much.

 

He focused on meditative breathing as he pushed as deep as he could, exercising every bit of restraint he possessed. He would not come until she had, and everything she gave him he would repay tenfold. She was starting to mewl around him, her ministrations getting wetter and sloppier, and he knew she was going to come soon, but her throat was so fucking tight and wet and _gods._

 

“Stop,” he ground out, fearing that uttering the word alone would kill him.

 

She froze.

 

“Do not come.”

 

Panting, she nodded, giving herself a break to come down just a little bit. Catching his breath as well, trying desperately to slow himself down, he offered her the tea he had poured anticipating her arrival earlier, now cold. She huffed a laugh.

 

“Are we taking food breaks for true, now?”

 

“Yes,” he said sharply, using his best voice for giving orders, hoping to grant no room for opposition. But it was a challenge — her voice was hoarse, her throat a little raw, and all he could think was how his cock had done that. “We have all night, Mori. I intend to use it.”

 

“You’ll have to attend to your people again tomorrow, though,” she said, sipping her tea and hoping desperately her pout wasn’t too obvious. She couldn’t stop the little swivels her hips were making as her pussy clenched over nothing and here she was, being good, drinking her gods damned tea and _not coming._

 

“Oh, I think Hakuro and Yugiri can manage just fine without me for, say, a few days?”

 

Her eyes snapped to him. “Truly?”

 

He swept hair from her brow and tucked it behind her ear, wiped away a tear that had escaped as she choked on him. “Truly. Now _eat.”_

 

She kissed him soundly, using it as a distraction to plop herself directly in his lap, lining her cunt up with his shaft and sliding along it as she loaded a plate with fish and rice and fruit and dumplings.

 

“What?” She asked sweetly. “You _said_ to eat.”

 

“I did,” he choked out. “And the second you are done I am going to positively ravish you.”

 

She smiled, feeding him a morsel and resting her head on his shoulder. She was wound up like a crossbow string but her heart also sang and the threads of her anxiety had snapped like taffy. The blossoming feeling inside her said maybe, indeed, she belonged exactly where she was.

 

“Promises, promises.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I ended here. It just got too... big.
> 
> ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY SHADOWBRINGERS TOOK OVER MY LIFE.
> 
> I swear I still love our boi. I swear they will fuck more.
> 
> I swear I will also have to get Emet-Selch out of my system.

Her ink dark hair fanned across his futon as he tossed her down, and it caught the moonlight like stars. He tried desperately not to think of the gods she had felled, the losses she had endured, the weight of existence on her shoulders.

 

She was a person, and he would be damned if he did not treat her as such.

 

She had pert little tits that were dotted in bites, and her thighs shone in the dim light. Her scars stretched across her abdomen with her heavy breathing, and he focused on that; expand, contract. Expand, contract.

 

He would not spread her thighs and shove himself into her without taking care of her. He would not.

 

"Fuck me, my love. Fucking _fuck_ me," she wailed.

 

He. Would. Not.

 

He reached forward with his index finger and pressed the calloused surface into her clit, holding it there. When she would buck or rub herself onto him, he pulled back and stopped, waited. Nonsense babbled forth from her like water gently lapping against a rocky shore.

 

She would come and come and come until she didn't know her own name, and _then_ he would fill her.

 

"I thought I told you that you will take only what I give you, when I give it to you," he said darkly, thrusting three fingers as far as he could into her without preamble and then withdrawing them entirely.

 

She reached for him with a cry but he swatted her hands away. "Be a good girl, Mori. Hands to yourself."

 

Through her haze and with extreme effort she said, "Where would you like them, sir?"

 

"Hm," he said, pressing on her clit hard and pulling a squeal from her, "on your breasts, if you please. There's a good girl."

 

He couldn't believe she wasn't coming with how savagely she was twisting her nipples. He stared as the skin stretched and snapped back, pinker than before; she raked her claws over her own skin and was almost sobbing.

 

But she obeyed.

 

Not pushed far enough yet, he mused. She was still in some semblance of control and he wanted to gift her with the space to truly let go.

 

He took his hands and rested them on her knees, spreading her thighs wide and pushing her open one ilm at a time. His cock was so hard it hurt, but he would not rush this; her life was not easy, and it required time to truly tend to her well. He needed her to feel loved, to feel wrung out, to feel safe. He would never forgive himself if she felt like she was a quick fuck.

 

There was a time and place for that, but this was not it.

 

He took a moment to consider her pussy as though he was thinking about whether or not he actually wanted to be here until she whimpered and clenched her knees around him. He looked at where she was mauling her own skin, desperate for release.

 

"Softer," he commanded. "Gently."

 

She hissed through her teeth and obeyed, and the second her fingertips softly danced over her nipples he licked the entirely of her cunt into his mouth like he was trying to eat her whole, and she screamed.

 

He was _relentless_. He would circle her clit only to abandon it entirely in favor of thrusting his tongue as deeply as he could into her hole, suck on her hard and then stop to finger that ridge inside of her, breathe over her folds while spreading her wetness to her ass and nipping her thighs. He drew blood once and almost apologized until her saw her shake and her eyes darken, and then he did it again and tears slipped from her eyes and she fisted his hair and _pulled_.

 

"Please," she whispered, begged; a mantra. " _Pleasepleaseplease_ \--"

 

"Tell me," he demanded, words muffled by her flesh. "Tell me what you want, Mori."

 

She made a nearly inhuman sound and broke his command, twisting her nipple hard. He let this one slide.

 

"I want to come all over your face, and then I want to sit on it and do it again."

 

"Oh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and wondering how much teasing he could get away with. "I thought you wanted me to fuck you."

 

"Hien fucking _Rijin_ you will put your _fucking mouth back on me_ or so help me I will --"

 

He huffed a laugh as he dove back in, all teasing gone. She was going to come, all over his face, and then she was going to sit on him and do it again.

 

He put two fingers to work inside her, pulling back hard against her pubic bone until she yelped just the right way, and sucked on her clit without stopped. She was crying and begging and screaming and he'd never heard such music, would worship her always thus if she would just--

 

When she came, she gushed onto him, his hands, his face. He swallowed as much of it as he could and licked at all her little bite marks, pressed a hand into her abdomen to guide her breathing into something slower as he began to sincerely worry she might pass out.

 

He looked up at her from under his eyelashes, and she was laughing and crying at all the same time. Her thighs shook, her aether trembled.

 

"Just, uh," she stuttered as tears fell, "just gimme a mo', please."

 

"Anything," he said sincerely. He ran his hands along her skin and massaged her muscles, pet her hair, wiped her tears. "Are you alright, my love?"

 

She nodded, hiding her face in one hand. "I'm overwhelmed, but it isn't bad."

 

"Okay," he said, trusting her.

 

"Can I have water?" she asked, and he was almost surprised at how small she sounded, how timid. "And then can you lay down so I can make you do that again?"

 

He laughed good naturedly before swooping in and licking her once more for good measure, delighting in the way it made her cunt spasm, before standing and doing as he was bid.

 

He fetched a glass of water, his wash basin, a towel, some fruit and a favorite book before returning to her side. She drank greedily and they both split the berries until she felt ready, and she sat up and cupped his cheeks, staring holes into him as she settled on what to say.

 

"I don't know what I'm going to have to do after this. I don't know where I'll have to go, or what I'll face. But I want to come back here, when I'm done. I mean, if that's okay. If you'll have me."

 

It took everything in him not to scoff. _If he would have her_ , indeed. As though he had not been in love with her since he first saw her on the open plains.

 

"This is your home, Mori," he said simply. "Where else would you go?"

 

Her eyes filled with tears again as a smile bloomed. "Well, I heard Magnai is looking."

 

"Ha!" he said, pushing her over on the futon to make room for his broad frame. He lay on his back and picked her up above him like she weighed nothing, and she gave an undignified squeak as he settled her above him, suckling gently at her thigh until there was a crimson mark.

 

"We can fuck him, if you like," he said, so casually she was left blinking at him in confusion until his tongue returned to her pussy and she let out a long moan above him.

 

"Really?" she huffed. "Do you like to watch?"

 

"Hmm," he murmured, unable to say any more as she ground onto his face, bracing her hands against the wall. She exhilarated in the feeling of choosing when he was allowed to breathe, twisting her hips so his nose brushed her clit as he thrust his tongue inside her. He waited until she seemed thoroughly distracted before he brought his hands up, getting one finger wet before bringing it back and circling her rear entrance, nudging his finger inside before pushing one from his free hand into her cunt.

 

"Oh, _gods_ ," she yelped, thrusting herself down until he thought he might actually die. " _Yes_."

 

There was no teasing, this time. He fucked both her holes with his fingers and sucked at her with purpose until she was screaming and seeing stars, a surge of her come pouring over him, the breeze from outside doing next to nothing to calm the heat as it kissed her skin.

 

She flopped off him dramatically, bonelessly, as he took a rapid breath in to soothe the burning of his lungs.

 

"Are you dead?" she asked, unable to lift her head.

 

"I could be," he said. "I could have you arrested for murdering the royal heir."

 

"Whatever," she huffed. "You deserved it."

 

He laughed. "Indeed I did. Do you--"

 

But his words were cut off with a strangled shout as her positively searing mouth swallowed his length down, nuzzling her nose into the downy hair on his lower abdomen. He was so hard it hurt and he was in danger of coming far too fast, and his mind short circuited with the effort to deciding where he wanted to paint her with his come, in her mouth or on her tits or in her--

 

Time. He had time.

 

"Slow," he commanded, somehow finding his voice. "Use your teeth, just a little."

 

She gave him a nip, just a little one. He hissed through his teeth and murmured praise to her, how good she was for him, how well she took him. When he felt the base of his spine start to burn and couldn’t stand how the wet sounds were coming from her _mouth_ instead of her _cunt_ , he pulled her off him by her hair.

 

“You’re so good, my Mori,” he said, dragging her up to his mouth and sweeping his tongue inside. She moaned at her taste and raked her nails down his bicep, leaving welts and a sweet sting cooled by the night air.

 

“Can I fuck you?” She whispered to his mouth, as though telling a secret. “Please, my love?”

 

“Always,” he groaned. “Anything.”

 

Really, when this started, he had made plans. He would bring her to the brink and not let her fall, over and over again, until she screamed from a single touch. He would force her to come until she begged him to stop, and then he would use her hard and pet her hair as she fell asleep, feed her breakfast in the morning. Tell her she couldn’t come until lunch, but stop by to lick her to frustration anyway.

 

Instead he kissed the inside of her wrist and held eye contact and she sank onto him, her tight little cunt like a vice and her heart heavy with love. The least he could do was make sure he felt it too.

 

“I love you, Morrigan, Warrior of Light,” he said softly as his free hand took her hip and helped her grind over his length.

 

“And I you, Hien of Doma, Shun if you believe the rumors,” she replied, eyes twinkling as she lifted herself so, so slowly, only to slam back down and cause him to throw his head back into the pillows.

 

She kept her pace as slow as possible, teasing as many sounds from his throat as she could, admiring its column as he struggled to not take hold and fuck her however he pleased. His fingers ached from their grip on the bedding until she took them in hand and placed them on her hips.

 

“Leave marks,” she ordered. “And fuck me how you like.”

 

The sound he made was almost a snarl as he rose, twisting one hand into her hair to bare her shoulder for him to bite down on, the other digging in more than deeply enough to bruise. He sat up and pushed her forward until her back hit the wall and he simply _shoved_ into her, over and over, the head of his cock bumping as far back as he could reach and dragging along her walls every time he pulled out. She ground her clit against his pubic bone, realizing that somehow she could come again, and begged him for all he had.

 

He was more than happy to oblige.

 

He saw her through two more orgasms before he roared as his took him, filling her, _marking_ her, for all that he was not a possessive man. He would always want what made her happiest, but if she would allow him the selfish indulgence of calling her his and leaving the marks of his body on her skin, all the better.

 

He sucked bruises into her chest as she desperately tried to catch her breath, half slumped. His tongue flicked and bit a nipple, dipped into her belly button, and when he reached his destination she only stared in wonder and disbelief as he pushed his tongue inside of her, tasting _them_ , together, and licking her until she was clean. She came gently, like the hushed murmur of leaves on the wind, and let out a sigh as she had no more fight to give.

 

She didn’t cry, this time. She looked at him, and the only thing left in her tired soul was a smile.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interlude.

For the first time in years, she slept through the night.

 

The frayed edges of her nervous system eased in his presence, and she let her body sink into his skin. For once, she trusted someone else to watch over her. For once, she rested.

 

The morning brought the slow and steady spread of the heat of the sun through his windows, a sweet smelling breeze and the bustle of the Ten Thousand Stalls. Shouts and clangs of construction and shrieks of young ones.

 

The soft rumble from within his chest under her ear.

 

"Mori," he murmured, voice low and rough with sleep. His large hand speared his fingers into her dark hair, holding her to him.

 

She reached out to flick his nipple with her tongue, teasing a laugh from him.

 

Wrapping every limb around him she could, she hugged him close. "Let's leave the Enclave today."

 

"Oh? And where would you like to go?"

 

She hummed softly as her hand idled lower, brushing the downy hair of his abdomen. "You once said you wanted the time to truly feel the stars of the Steppe. If we've the time, I would very much like to do that with you."

 

He slid his thumb across her lower lip, and she met his eyes as she slipped her hand lower, sliding around his hard shaft and making his breath hitch.

 

"Suck," he ordered.

 

She took his thumb in her mouth, reaching her tongue for the base and biting along his skin, moaning and gripping his base, swirling her fingers to the top.

 

Morrigan hitched her leg over his hip and moved the small distance to be on top of him, groaning around his fingers as his thick tip found her folds, the delicious stretch and soreness from the night before bringing her to full wakefulness.

 

" _Yes_ ," she hissed as she pushed herself all the way down, wet not quite ready enough, the sting making her eyes roll back into her head as she bit his knuckle.

 

"Look at me," she said, trailing his spit-slick fingers over her breasts. "Look at all of the marks you've left on me."

 

She rocked up, slow and steady, mapping his hands along every bruise, every bite, every scratch.

 

"Did you know that I can heal these?" she asked, voice breaking as he thrust his hips up hard, holding her against him and flicking her clit with his free hand. She leaned down to take his ear lobe in her teeth as his pace picked up, fucking into her in earnest. "Did you know that I won't?"

 

" _Kami_ ," he groaned.

 

"I want more, Hien. I'm a hard woman to hurt, and I want you to hurt me. I want everyone to see."

 

Blood rushed to his cock at her words, but he stilled. Something in her voice sounded desperate, overwhelmed. It was too soon for something like that.

 

He cupped her cheeks and kissed her softly, gently rocking her on his pelvis like a wave crashes to shore in the ease of dawn.

 

"No," he said simply. "Not yet."

 

"Oh? Something else planned for me, _sir_?" she asked, playing for coy even though his refusal made something twist in her.

 

He paused thoughtfully, trailing his fingertips over the long lines of her body, pressing against the dense rivers of scar tissue.

 

"You have enough pain in your life, my Mori. When I hurt you, it will be because its what you need, and not because it is all you have known. When I mark you, everyone will know how well cared for you are, and not simply what you have survived."

 

Her eyes stung as his words swelled inside of her, as his cock swelled inside of her.

 

"Okay," she said, having never heard her voice so small. "Okay."

 

"Do you trust me, my love?"

 

She nodded quickly, gasping as his fingers returned to her clit, faster. "Without question."

 

He moved his mouth to her neck, suckling before biting gently down. "Let me take care of you. Let me give you what you need."

 

"Ah! _Yes_!"

 

Together, they moved forward. When she begged, he would slow down. When she twisted her own skin until it hurt he soothed with his mouth, pulling marks into her skin slowly and with time. When she fell over the cliff of orgasm he fell with her, his muscles shaking alongside hers, his come painting them both as he cherished her and she tentatively and uncomfortably allowed herself to be loved.

 

It was so soft, this precious moment of a life rarely afforded to her. But to her shock, it did not feel fragile.

 

It felt strong.

 

"I want you to keep my come in you," he whispered into her hair. "I want to feed you, and then I want to take you to see the stars."

 

She beamed, and it was as if her entire being smiled.

 

"I want that, too."


	6. Chapter Six

She had not anticipated how great a pleasure it would be to see the stars through his eyes.

The long grasses whispered secrets against their backs, harmonizing with their lungs and heartbeats. The rolling fields expanded so far that she felt infinitesimal, unimportant. When she opened her aether to the earth she could hear the singing, and she offered him her hand to share it with a soft sigh.

His cheeks were ruddy in the cold, sharp wind; his skin prickled as her magic washed over him, opening his soul to everything alive.

"Is this what it is like for you, all the time?"

She shifted uncomfortably at the awe in his voice. "If I listen."

He regarded her with a steady gaze, visibly assessing her. After a time, he turned back to the night sky over the Steppe.

"No wonder you're so abominably loud when you talk, then."

She shrieked and shoved him, but she wasn't fast enough; he swept her into his arms and kissed her hair before pushing her straight down the hill.

\-----

Time passed with the gentle arc of the constellations overhead. The first night, they bathed together in the slowly winding river. Hien had been incredulous that she was in the water at all, until he saw her creating literal fire inside of it, steam rising to curl around her rosy cheeks and smug smile.

They slid together so easily now. Her fingertips mapped the scars along his back, the thick grip of his hair in her fingers. She drank in his ease, the fluidity with which his joy moved between them in this place of rest. He charted the topography of her body until her concentration flickered and the river flashed freezing cold around them, until she bit him and he thrust into her harder and fire flared to life once again.

Here, in this place, in sync with the wild -- she felt something on the horizon. A change blowing in, a new place for her to be. She knew the Syrcus Tower would open for her soon and spill its secrets.

And she couldn't take Hien with her.

Her mood turned sour and her hips fierce, twisting against his and dragging her nails in harsh paths down his spine. He hissed and arched into her, grip at her waist bruising, jade eyes careful and searching. All she could do was shake her head and beg him to fuck her.

He cupped her face in his warm palms, soothing her with whispers and the gentle sway of the water around them.

"Stay with me, Mori," he murmured. "Hold on."

She took his shoulders in her hands, hoisting her legs tightly around his waist, and did as he bade her.

And then, finally, he made it hurt.

\----

In the early glimmer of morning, every single person in Reunion was delighted to see them both. What Morrigan could never have prepared herself for, however, was the savage joy within him as he negotiated prices so low they may as well have been robbing the jeweler blind.

The longer she knew him, the more she realized that he was exceptionally skilled at appearing open, jovial, amenable even; but all too frequently it was bound by duty and the heavy burden of leadership that kept him pinned to the earth. His smile and open palms held a steel edge beneath.

She remembered when he stood poised, unshaking, prepared to execute Tsuyu within the walls of his own home -- her held breath had stretched her lungs until they burned, they single moment poised on the edge of his blade.

She remembered how warmly he smiled at Asahi under the flag of peace, and how it did not reach his eyes.

He was calculating.

She was never going to play Triple Triad with him. Not ever.

He had asked if she would accept two tokens of favor. She puzzled over the formal phrasing, but allowed it despite some reservations; she wanted to experience the time they had together to the fullest, and found herself unable to deny him no matter how uncomfortable gifts made her.

The first made her heart hitch, but the second set her ablaze: a set of ebony daggers to hide in her boots, and a black corded ribbon to wear round her neck, threaded with a few precious strands of his hair.

She could feel traces of his aether in it, and as he tied it around her neck she felt the essence of him rest on the surface of her skin, thin but clear like a fingerprint. She took his hands and gently opened her aetherical mind to him so he could feel himself on her skin, too.

He nodded sharply, satisfied.

"Good."

\-----------------

They drifted lazily through freezing currents towards Dotharl Khaa on her yol, taking their time. His hand was sneaking into her cloak and idly cupping a breast while she tried to convince him that Cid and Nero were, in fact, sleeping together. When he pinched her nipple and she got to the part where Alpha the Chocobo became a real boy and definitely their new son, he ugly laughed into her hair and she thought it was the most resplendent sound she had ever heard.

They spent the rest of the day with the Dotharl, and as the heavy afternoon sun sank beneath the horizon in hot orange hues, a chocobo bound messenger arrived for her with a sealed missive, and she knew it was time.

Hien's feet parted the high grasses beneath her downturned eyes, and he placed his warm hand over hers and the letter within.

His eyes were dancing in the gloaming, and if there were traces of weight and melancholy to them, they both knew better than to say anything.

"Shall we have some fun before you go get Alisaie and the others?" he asked, tipping her chin up with a long, calloused finger.

She nodded, throat thick, not trusting herself to speak.

He pressed his lips firmly to hers, a hot sear in the unforgiving wind. He hooked a finger in the cord at her throat, tugging her to stand as though it were a collar.

"This way then, Mori. Heavens forbid we be late."


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all might want some wine.

She should have known better.

There had been a gleam in his eyes, a _smirk_ that he somehow made with his _face_ , and she was just too besotted to actually pay attention to what Hien was going to do to her, where he was taking her. He always kept his true cards close to his chest, only visibly playing the ones he wanted you to see.

Certainly, he only planned to visit the Dawn Throne just as they had Reunion. It would be a normal visit, just like Dotharl Khaa had been, and then they would go home.

She should have known better.

But she hadn't, and now she is in Magnai's bedchambers with a leaping flame dancing in the hearth and a mountainous pile of scarlet rope in her hands.

Stupid, stupid Morrigan.

Whose face would not cool down, and whose palms would not stop sweating, and whose throat was as dry as the Burn.

Magnai took to one knee and bowed his head before her, and she tried to swallow but found she couldn't. His flushed skin glowed gold in the wavering light and his horns made blades out of shadows; he was a towering beacon of power, and before her his knee kissed stone.

"My lady," he began, and her spine sung when his voice cracked, "My Khagan. Our good lord Hien has entreated me to assist in your care this evening, and should you have me, it would be my honor to serve."

" _Magnai the Elder_ ," she breathed. "And here I thought you were only a beast."

His lip quirked, and she wanted to put her thumb in his mouth.

Hien was still as stone beside her, eyes steadily gauging her reaction, arms crossed in a posture unusually vulnerable for him.

He wanted to give her a gift, she realized. This was it -- and he did not know if she liked it.

"Magnai, you do not have to serve me because I won the Nadaam and the favor of the Dawn Father. You have done your part for saving these lands, and I need no more of you."

He licked his lips, and hesitated only a moment. "That is not why I am here."

She kneeled herself, to rest eye to eye with him, and gave into temptation -- she put her thumb on his lower lip.

He accepted her in, mouth searingly hot and so, so slick. He met her eyes directly and _sucked_.

The noise she made was feral.

"Why… are you here, then?"

His amber eyes were hooded when he pulled off her with a pop.

He took a deep breath and prepared his words, working his jaw as he mulled them over. "I have wanted you since first we fought. Then, I thought it would be you on your knees. My blood would sing in the sun and you would kneel, and I would have you in the fields. Instead, you were a _valkyrie_. I was destroyed, and thus I would dream of no higher privilege than sharing the trust of you and your mate, and I am honored he has asked it of me."

She looked to Hien, whose expression remained unnaturally still. "And you, my love?"

"I want this for you," he said, cheeks dusting with a delicate flush. He looked so _pretty_ , here in the heat of firelight, looming above her. "To be true, however, I would also have this for me."

Something bubbled up from her chest, heating her skin and spilling from her mouth as an effervescent laugh. _Joy_ , she thought. Incredulity.

She stood quickly, twining her fingers into Magnai's hair with one hand and Hien's own with the other. The aether between them sparked and her nerves desired a dance.

She could begin, then.

"So I have your consent," she began, steady and clear. "To have both of you. Your consent to have each other. Your consent to have me. Is there aught I do not have your leave to do?"

The silence rang loud as a log of birch snapped cheerfully in the fire. When neither man had spoken for two full breaths, she nodded sharply and tightened her fingers in Magnai's hair.

"Get on the bed," she snapped, and he scrambled to obey as though struck with levin, shooting her a cheeky wink as he moved.

He was so very tall, lean but angled with bestial muscle. His bed was far too infinitesimal for all three of them, but the stone floor was covered generously in dark sheepskins that would do well enough. She hadn't even finished the thought when she felt the air on her skin, realizing she had mindlessly stripped her own clothes off in her excitement. Hien was laughing behind her, the ass.

He wrapped around her from behind, long fingers cupping her breasts, nose nuzzling her hair. He squeezed her in a hug, and her heart fluttered as it always did when she was shown tenderness.

"I want you to tie him up," he murmured softly.

She paused.  
  
"I don't think I know how," she said, pondering the indomitable, thundering man who was tripping over himself in his haste to be nude for them.

"Good. That means I get to teach you."

 

* * *

 

 

It took Hien less than a quarter of a bell to truss Magnai's entire body against a hook in the wall like a holiday bird, and he did it all naked and proud as the day he was born.

Morrigan had learned next to nothing in that time, brain short circuiting into uselessness, hands busy with the swollen and leaking cock in front of her. Truly, Magnai was a panting, sweaty mess; he was straining to touch them, but each time he squirmed, the intricate crimson loops Hien had made around his wrists would tug the rope at his throat tight against his Adam's apple, scales shining in the firelight.

He was a work of art, and she held him in awe.

“What would you like, Magnai?” she asked of him, cupping his cheek while Hien slid the soft cotton rope between the other man’s legs, wringing a strangled noise from his throat as he wove a delicate knot, long and calloused fingers teasing along his shaft.

She wondered when Hien planned to tie her up like that.

She hoped it was soon.

"Touch me," Magnai commanded, voice laced with arrogance for all he couldn't reach for her without choking himself.

"No," Hien replied, sounding bored. "You're going to watch her come, and no one is going to touch you."

"I am?"

"He is?"

She laughed, only flushing a little when a snort came out. Hien's character broke for only a short second, but his grin was wild; she was far too charming by half. He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, and this time it was her turn to be ordered to the bed.

Magnai's cock was dark steel and flushed, leaking so much that it shone like it had already been in her mouth. The least she could do was give him a show.

Morrigan lay back and spread her legs as far as she could, her slick and swollen lips begging for a fat cock or a hungry mouth. Hien, for his part, couldn't seem to decide.

"Please," she said, voice high and strung out, and he fell to his knees without thought.

She was a feast, and he would treat her like one.

His mouth had never been so _hungry_ , sucking her cunt whole, fingers _everywhere_ , inside and outside and sneaking around to the back. The hearth was more than adequate at keeping the outside chill at bay, but Hien alone would kill her in flames and she hadn't even touched Magnai yet.

Magnai, who was laced from cock to hands to throat, who was whimpering and straining like a lost kitten, whose face was feral and raw with need. His luminous eyes followed Hien's tongue as it slid inside her, locked on the lips of her sex, and she bit her own cheek until it bled as she drank the light of him in.

The hand inside of her took up a furious pace and she slid in and out of awareness, dimly feeling all of her holes gently filled until sensation came into sharp relief and she spasmed, gushing against him, pouring herself over Magnai's bed and marking it as theirs.

Hien stood while she was still a shuddering ache instead of a person, offering his slick hand to the other's eager mouth. She stared dumbly as he licked Hien clean, the latter offering a low murmur that she could not hear. She let her eyes close gently to bask in the heat of the room around her, the richness of her afterglow. Her cunt twitched in an aftershock and she whimpered, levitating off the bed when a new mouth with an entirely _longer_ tongue slid home inside her, hungrily lapping at her cum while Hien held his scarlet leash tight, restricting his air just enough that he wheezed when he got too eager.

She was going to die here.

Screaming, if the tip of Magnai's tongue at her cervix and nose nuzzling at her clit were any indication.

He wrung two more orgasms from her until she batted weakly at his face, begging for a break with her hands because she could no longer speak. Hien ran his fingers through the man's sweaty hair, murmuring praises and gently massaging where the rope had left pink indentations.

They matched the flush on his cheeks, she thought distantly. It was cute.

"Magnai needs to get fucked, Hien," she informed them, voice wrecked and cracking. "You need to take care of him."

His answering grin was wolfish, and her pussy's sudden rush of slick knew it.

"Do I, my love? And he has earned such a thing?"

She regarded the Xaela resting between her legs, eyes glazed and face still wet with her cum.

"You may be right," she murmured, sliding a finger through her folds and then into his mouth. "Maybe he doesn't deserve it."

"Tell me," he growled, biting her thigh hard enough she had dents from his teeth, "how to serve you. Tell me how to _deserve_ you."

She sat up abruptly and fisted his hair, sucking marks into his throat and reaching for his leash. Hien surrendered it without complaint, and it was true that she may not be able to walk, but she most certainly could still boss a measly two men around.

"You're going to take him in your mouth," she said, sliding her thumb to the back of his throat and pushing the rope against his face in a threatening mockery of a caress. "If you make him happy, I'll let you come after he fucks you. If you let him come in your mouth, you don't get to come at all, and I will have my use of your body. Do you understand?"

His eager smile did not befit a man on his knees, and she choked him slowly until she knew that he knew it too.

She leaned in to kiss his cheek, whispering voice a sweet balm against his skin. "Is this still alright? Are you getting what you need?"

He turned to capture her lips, mouth tasting of her own cum and that very, very long tongue fighting her own for dominance. He smiled at her, and it made her heart jump; she'd never seen this furious god of war radiate with restful peace, and it looked good on him.

"Yes, Morrigan, thank you," he said, voice firm and somehow still haughty. No matter how ruddy his skin or how wet with sweat, his arrogance refused to wane. "Now if you're done distracting me, perhaps I could get to work?"

She laughed out loud, delighted.

"Remember your rules."

He nodded deferentially. "My lady."

Hien was standing with his arms crossed, erection proudly aimed toward Magnai's face, thighs thick with tensed muscles as he waited for the other man to move.

He did not have to wait long.

Magnai had, after all, proven to be more than eager.

Hien could not control his shout as his cock vanished into the other man's throat, fisting his own hair in an effort to not face fuck him. This was, indeed, a first time encounter; it seemed fairly likely that choking your guest into unconsciousness with your shaft was rude.

Morrigan wanted to be rude.

She pushed Magnai's head down and held his lips against the hard planes of Hien's body, only letting him breathe when he turned a truly delicious shade of red that paired so well with his pretty ropes.

Hien was shaking with restraint.

"Such a good boy," she praised, speaking to no one in particular and caressing them both. "Take what you want from him, my darling. I want to watch."

She handed over the literal reins, and reclined backwards into ebony furs. She touched herself lazily, enjoying their mutual mess.

Hien had been right. This was _fun_.

Unsurprisingly, he made Magnai work for it. He wouldn't stop touching the other man's cock, teasing and bringing him close to the edge, tugging ruthlessly at the slick ridges, fucking down into his face and at one point pushing him across the room so he could fuck his face straight into the wall. Magnai took it all without complaint no matter how desperate he was to touch, stubbornly pushing his hands forward only to reel back off the shaft he was sucking because he had no air.

Hien declared himself satisfied only after Magnai had finally lost his careful control and surrendered to his gag reflex, desperately shuddering around Hien's cock as he choked and sputtered for real.

"Good," he said. "Very good."

Magnai nodded to him in a daze, saliva still shining around his lips and honestly _all_ over Hien. He was slumped against the wall on his knees, head tipped back and eyes closed as he caught his breath.

Which is why she marched right over to him and plopped down without ceremony, sliding his enormous ridged cock as far in as she could, and grinding her hips in hard and unforgiving figure eights.

"You did so well for us," she told him, and he swallowed the words with his eager mouth and wild eyes, snapping back to attention.

"I thought I was supposed to fuck him," Hien said behind her, sounding dangerously close to a pout.

"You were," Morrigan said, trying to feign indifference and failing. "I got greedy."

"Hmm," was all she heard, and she stopped paying attention because Magnai had a ridge _right there_ and gods but she was going to come and make a mess out of all his pretty little rope knots, and he was smirking so deviously at her and hammering into her for all he was worth with every single ilm of movement he could milk from his bondage. She was biting his chest and mewling into his collar and she was full to the brim and spilling over but somehow she needed _more_ and --

As if summoned by the thought, she felt well oiled fingers trailing the curve of her ass and finding her unoccupied entrance, and she took a breath to relax. Hien slid his thick finger inside her right as Magnai thrust up harshly and she screamed, vision dancing in a myriad of rainbow dots and head spinning.

She probably should have taken a water break, but she'd die before leaving them now.

By the time Hien had three fingers in her ass, she didn't even recognize the sounds spilling from her mouth, but the litany of all three of their songs was stunning; grunts and whines and quiet reassurances and the ever present wet _slap_ of Magnai's ruthless thrusts.

Hien took his time and as with everything, he was thorough. She was begging for him by the time she felt his fat head at her loosened ring of muscle, and when he breached her he whispered in her ear, "Greedy girls get what they ask for, you know," and then he was _pushing_ but his fingers were hooked in the back of the woven collar he had given her and he held her upright and she was right before, when all of this started, she was right and she was going to _die_ , combust until her ashes scattered to the wind, and he was possessed of no mercy and he pushed and pushed and there, he was hilted, but so was Magnai and she _felt_ them touch through her body. Tears of overwhelm fell freely with a steady chant of "don't stop don't stop _don't stop_ " and Hien took her hand and pressed it into her stomach, pressed it hard and then they both thrust again and she could _feel_ them through her stomach too, see the outline of Magnai as he took everything she had and she gave it gladly and without restraint or control.

Her aether cracked open like an egg and she came, body and soul open to the vibrancy of life around her, cunt squeezing and gushing and soaking everything her magnificent men had to give her, an exchange too beautiful to witness alone, so she shared it.

Their pleasure cycled between them, and with shouts and cries and bruising grips they filled her, Hien pushing as hard as he could until their bodies were no longer separate, they were one being, riding Magnai as he was lost to his wonderful kitten mewls and shaking limbs and a cock that spasmed so hard it jerked her forward.

In the ringing silence that followed, only their horrifically out of control breathing could be heard, and she was the first to laugh.

So open and exposed but so held and accepted, she couldn't help herself. What could any one person ever do to deserve such joy?

They joined in her exhilaration, hands everywhere but slowly, lazily, brushing sweat matted hair out of faces and wiping away tears and soothing skin. She helped Hien untie Magnai, massaging every ilm of skin revealed as Hien's clever fingers undid his knots as though they hadn't held a towering man of muscle effortlessly immobile for what felt like bells and bells.

(The tie that held his sack in place she soothed with her mouth, which made him laugh and moan with overstimulation simultaneously, and she vowed to one day hear such a spectacular sound as that again.)

When they were all three a heap of limbs and fluids on the sheep-skinned floor, Magnai cupped her cheek and arched a brow, looking every inch the elder prince. The shadows across his jaw had deepened to an inky black, the fire having long died down to embers, and she felt like she was being swallowed whole by the golden light of his eyes.

"I _can_ have a bath drawn for us, you know," he drawled, and he managed to sound so pompous whilst utterly debauched and covered in cum that she had to cover her snort-laugh hastily with her hand.

"Your laugh… is cute," Magnai said, sounding like every single word pained him to say aloud. Hien's answering mirth was explosive and loud as it so often was, unreserved and warm. He agreed heartily, nodded to the bath, and attempted to stand.

Failed.

Morrigan simply reached a hand in each direction, dragging the furs over their aching bodies, draping an arm over each muscled torso.

"Tomorrow," she declared. "Bath tomorrow."

She was asleep before either of them had agreed.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very short interlude, and I apologize for both delay and length. I just wasn't prepared to push them into Shadowbringers, but it's time <3

Hien carried her the way to Magnai's bathing chambers, murmuring sweet nothings into her hair, the heat from his chest seeping into her tired muscles. She was liquid, languid, ready for a hot soak and the wet slide of skin against skin before they break their fasts.

Together they washed Magnai's hair, his sunset eyes glowing in pleasure, Hien's deep and gentle voice offering instructions that all she had to do was follow and float softly along. Two pairs of unyielding arms and heady, dulcet tones were a liferaft, and she clung tightly to stop herself from drowning in the threat of tomorrow.

Their bodies pressed and drifted, the current of their movements rocking her into both of them, and she closed her eyes to the drift of it -- hands wandered and tugged, a stray lock of hair in the water brushed against her body in hello, legs tangled together in an awkward mess.

It was wonderful, and all three of them came together in the gentle morning light. Heavy sighs as she fucked herself on Hien’s brought thigh, Magnai’s fingers taking his time and exploring her from behind. They knew, they both knew -- the tension was boiling off of her as the window for her refuge was closing. She was too sore to take both of them again, but they took turns well enough. Magnai even had the grace to blush when she insisted that good boys always share. 

The experience was one of softness that she was not often afforded, and Morrigan kept it close to her heart long after they had said their goodbyes and taken wing on her Yol, back to the Enclave.

Not long, now. Not nearly long enough.

* * *

She thought often of dumplings.

They were a remarkable food, for just being dough and filling. It was common for recipes to pass through generations of a family, surviving through love and wars and tradition and separation. Dumplings were a way to stare directly through time, and though she ate them like she’d lived her whole life in the woods with no manners whatsoever, every bite felt like magic.

She wanted her hands to make dumplings like Hien’s do -- instead of a deep hole she can't look at, for the first time, such a family felt possible. It felt like light. She saw the same light in the Domans around her, in this raucous place that is now her home.

Hien fed her his favorite gyoza from the Ten Thousand Stalls, salty pork with sesame fried to a hard crisp in golden oil, and she licked the grease from his fingertips. She wondered if his mother made them for him, before she died, but she does not ask -- it is important that she tells herself there will be time for that later.

She repeats, again and again, that they have a future. That she is coming back

And she is going to make her own dumplings, with him. They’re going to be horrible, misshapen monstrosities, and he’ll eat every single one of them anyway.

 

* * *

 

It was time.

Each step pressed her deeper into the earth, the gravity dragging her bones until she was only silt and grass and stones. The effervescent light of the Syrcus Tower dominated her field of vision, and she shelved her pride to squeeze Hien’s hand in desperation. He kissed her hair. 

It was something of an indignity to admit she was dragging her feet like a child, but here she was.

She used to think this place was so beautiful. It had been years since G’raha locked himself inside for the sake of the future, and even if her life was not so different, she couldn’t bear to look at it without a small snarl. Her stomach had swooped with the first real electricity of  _ adventure she chose _ instead of  _ adventure she must do _ with him, and losing that future with him would always feel bitter. 

“My friend is asleep in there,” she murmurs into the furs wrapping his shoulders. “To wake when the world needs the Tower the most. Take care of him for me while I’m gone, will you? And the Scions.”

He snorted, but the mirth within was stretched thin like taffy. “As though Tataru would let anyone near them.”

“Yeah, alright. Keep Tataru out of trouble then.”

“Not even Hancock can do that, my love.”

She punched his arm, the rocks crunching under their boots a sharp, brittle sound. “Hancock  _ is _ the trouble and you know it.”

He laughed. “I do, I do.”   


She clenched her fists, cutting her nails into her palms with more force than necessary. “I can’t ask you to protect the world in my stead, and I can’t not, either.” She slipped a finger under the cord on her neck, giving it a tug and letting it bite her skin. “Who am I if I’m not helping?”

The question hung heavily in the air until he stepped in front of her, hand coming to her throat and squeezing gently, just enough pressure across her carotid for her toes to curl. Her nerves electrified as he stared down at her and their dynamic clicked into place. 

“You’re Mori,” he said simply. “Try being that first.”

Answers always spilled from him so easily. 

She grinned at him, and that, at least, was undemanding. Uncomplicated. 

“Yes, sir.”

 

* * *

 

The aetherial sea welcomed her like a lover, and Mori stepped fully into the light.


End file.
